Have yourself a Merry little DXmas!
by Mizz Moneypenny
Summary: When Shawn Michaels and fellow D Generation X buddy Triple H recieve letters from a guy called Santa Claus, both men are sceptical. However, once they arrive in the North Pole, they soon realise that it's them and only them that can save Christmas for all
1. Chapter 1: A letter from who?

Hello and welcome to one of my WWE Christmas Extravaganzas! This idea, although ridiculous, I hope, will fill everyone with some much needed Christmas cheer. So far this year, all I've heard is people moan about having to write on Christmas cards and stuff – not exactly the spirit of Christmas, in my opinion!

I don't own any of the characters in this story. The majority of them are owned by that lucky billionaire Vincent Kennedy McMahon, apart from one very special guest and his friends.

Please, don't take this seriously; it's just a light hearted, Christmas drabble and quite different to anything I've done before so I hope you enjoy it!

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It was a crisp, chilled day in the middle of December. The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels settled down to his morning coffee and late breakfast, consisting of a light fruit salad and granary toast. With it being just over a week until the most over indulging day of the year, the Texas native knew that it was in his best interest to rest up as much as possible, eating only the healthiest - and slimming - of foods. 

As he listened to the morning Church service on his portable radio, his eyes gazed slovenly over the day's newspaper, shaking his head in mild disgust at some of the less attractive stories of rape and murder.

It bothered him that the folk of the world failed to co-exist, especially within an arm's reach of Christ's Birthday. He tutted, his features slumping a little with concern for the state of humanity.

His world became happier as his sweet wife's serene humming came into earshot. He beamed at her appearance, his face still a little melancholic.

"What's wrong, honey?" Rebecca questioned, running her soft hands over his broad shoulders.

"Nothing, sweetheart," he attempted to lighten up, resting a warm hand against her. "It's just such a shame that people can't get along in this world."

"I know," she pouted in agreement, laying a tender kiss against his blonde locks, smoothing out the strands of hair back into the pony tail. "Here's some mail for you."

"Thank you, darling." he replied, smiling gratefully to his beloved as she took his dirty dishes and began to clear up.

Shawn eyed the mail in an almost level expression, trying not to let his scepticism get the better of him. There were the regular bills, fan notes and other stuff that usually littered his house for days on end until he could be bothered to tidy away after himself. But there was one letter that caught his eye today.

The red swirled writing against the green background was evidently unique, cheery and very appropriate for the now commercial time of the year. The vague smell of candy canes swayed under his nose, the temptation of opening becoming too great to resist.

Picking up his reading glasses from beside him, he smirked as he saw the barrage of baubles and trees acting as a boarder around the beautifully hand written note. Squinting, he thought his eyes were deceiving him whilst reading the letter.

_Dear Shawn Michaels,_

_I'm writing to ask of you a favour, a favour that may help save Christmas for all of the girls and boys around the world. That is all I can say for now. No doubt you are a little suspicious, thinking this is a prank of some sort but I promise you it is certainly not._

_Please find enclosed your first class plane ticket to the North Pole where I shall explain more, if you so decide to come._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Santa Claus._

Shawn snorted, sceptical of 'Santa's' notion that he could mistake the bizarre letter from a prankster. It wasn't until he searched in the envelope again that he began to take it seriously; sure enough, there was one first class plane ticket, on the direct route to the North Pole.

He did consider that that too could be a fake. Yet, he'd seen far too many plane tickets in his time to know this one was perfectly legit. But that didn't stop his mind pacing with racing doubts.

Rebecca, strolling back into the kitchen, eyed her husband curiously. Although she'd seen the same bout of confusion etched on her husband's face millions of times before, never had it seemed so probing, so indecisive.

"Is everything alright, baby?"

Without uttering a single word, Shawn thrusted the note into his wife's hands, his elbows resting on the table as his head slumped in his palms with hopeless uncertainty.

"What's this?" Becky quizzed, turning the letter over multiple times.

"Just read it," the Icon urged, watching his wife's beautiful face mimic his previously perplexed expression.

"Santa Clause? Huh, yeah right!" she snickered, flipping the paper back down beside her hubby.

Although dubious of the note, Rebecca, like her partner, couldn't help but have a niggling feeling that the aeroplane ticket was authentic. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Shawn sighed deeply, annoyed at himself for getting this worked up over a seemingly trivial matter.

"What do you think you're going to do?" Becky spoke calmly, trying to be diplomatic.

"You know what? I have no idea, darling."

Hearing her husbands deep, boarder line exasperated sighs, she took a seat beside him, her hands taking his, their skin touching smoothly like silk.

"You know what I'd do?" she began, Shawn now looking at her directly in the eyes. "I would try calling the airport and seeing just how legit this ticket is. If they say it's not, then don't bother going. If it is, give this bizarreness the benefit of the doubt."

Nodding as he reluctantly looked through the phone directory for the airport phone number, Shawn didn't want to confess to his wife that he thought the letter was utter rubbish. Santa Clause was a character that most people realised wasn't real by the time they were ten.

Yet, why was something in his stomach telling him otherwise?

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Paul Levesque, known to his legion of fans worldwide as the Game, Triple H, stifled an unconvinced laugh as he dragged his semi-full suitcase across the floor of the airport, eyeing the travel ticket dubiously. The letter he'd received this morning seemed too silly to possibly be true, something too ridiculous for words.

However, the plane ticket was real, ordered through the credit card of a Mr. S Claus. He'd called the customer services department a little under two and a half hours ago and was now stood in an airport, about to venture on an aircraft that was _suppose_ to take him to the home of St. Nick.

He wasn't convinced and although frightened to admit it to himself, he was almost a little scared of flying out to this guys house; he knew his superstar profile could bring as much destruction as benefits. What happened if it was a prankster's idea of a joke, a trap for him to be lured into?

His wife, Stephanie McMahon-Levesque, had offered to fly out with him. He told her not to be so silly; it was one of their only days off and, besides, someone had to take care of baby Aurora.

It was something he felt he had to do on his own anyway.

Taking another perplexed glance at his airline ticket, he felt a shoulder bound into his, a person he didn't expect to see bouncing right back at him.

The Kings of Kings snorted, pissed off not only to be losing one of his valuable days off but to nearly have his ticket fly out of his hand.

"Hey, watch where you are going assh-...Shawn?"

The slightly shorter blonde stood straighter, juggling his rather hot coffee between both hands. "Hunter?"

"What are you doing here?" they yelled simultaneously, even more confused than ever with the sudden appearance of their bestest buddy who lived hundreds of miles away.

"Ladies first," the Cerebral Assassin lightly mocked.

The Icon rolled his eyes, not in the least bit offended; he was use to that kind of playful abuse from his long time friend. "Well, this morning, I got up. It was a fairly warm morning actually - pleasantly surprising considering this time of year..."

"Shawn," Hunter sighed, stroking a hand over his now wearing face. "Not to be rude but can you speed this whole thing up? By the time you've finished explaining, we can say goodbye to Christmas and hello to Easter!"

"IGOTTHISLETTERFROMAGUYCALLEDSANTA-WHOIKNOWISN'TREAL-BUTIBELIEVEITISFROMHIMCOZOFTHEPLANETICKETANDWHENICALLEDTHEAIRPORTTHEYSAIDITWASREALSONOWI'MHEREANDTHANKTHELORDI'MNOTALONE!"

Shawn took a moment to breathe, away from the garbled nonsense that Hunter was only just beginning to work out.

"What about you?"

"Same reason...I think."

The friends stood in near silence for a few minutes, the hustle and bustle of the airport disappearing around them.

Peeping at one another's tickets, they were glad that they had found each other as they headed towards gate 24, unbeknownst to them what their future held...

To be continued...check back for more, soon!

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Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review, just so that I know what you think! 


	2. Chapter 2: Santa is not real!

Hi and welcome to chapter 2 of 'Have yourself a merry little DXmas'! I would like to say a huge thank you for the phenomial response I got to the first chapter, particularly to those of you who reviewed – Cheryl, LCHime, SaraHHH, Adrian Jade, cenagirl5421, phaorah and Drummer512. I hope you all enjoy this update!

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Managing to find their seats with as much ease as possible for two international superstars, Shawn Michaels and Triple H settled down for their flight. Neither of them had ever been to the North Pole before so had little to no idea as to how long it would take. With that being said, it would be a good opportunity to relax, taking a while to figure out whether this was a harmless prank or a major hindrance to their Christmas holiday.

"This is really weird," Hunter commented, fastening his seat belt tightly around his waist. "I mean, this whole thing...it's like something out of a fairytale or something."

Shawn nodded. "I know what you mean, man. I mean, what would be the odds of Santa Claus inviting _us_ to help _him_?"

"Shawn, Santa's no-"

"I mean, I know we are huge all over the world. We're the original DX, everyone wants a piece of us."

"Shawn, Santa's no-"

"We have fans everywhere, even in England. I heard the Queen wanted some of you," Shawn stated, tapping the Game with excitement.

"Shawn, Santa's no-"

"I mean, when I first read the letter, I thought that it was a load of bs. I must have been ten or eleven when my parents finally told me it was all a myth, that a fat guy in red didn't come down our chimney every year."

"Shawn, Santa's no-"

"I use to get so excited Christmas Eve. I use to get a mince pie out for Santa as well as a tipple of Dad's favourite Whisky and a couple of carrots for the reindeers – after all, they'd be doing the majority of the hard work, right?"

"Shawn, Santa's no-"

"But, reading this letter, it makes me think that my parents fibbed to me about _that_ too. Think about it," Shawn urged, tapping an increasingly irritated Hunter once again on the arm. "Who's to say that he isn't real but – once you get to a certain age – he just delivers your presents in your parent's name?"

Realising that his best friend wasn't going to listen unless he co-operated a little bit, the King of Kings sighed. "Shawn, as a parent, shouldn't you realise that that isn't the case?"

The Heartbreak Kid contemplated the younger mans words for a few moments, biting his bottom lip. "No – I don't have time to do the Christmas shopping; I'm always on the road."

"And Rebecca?"

"She couldn't possibly have time to do all of that shopping, what with looking after a baby and a fast growing boy."

Hunter was shocked at Shawn's certainty. Sure, it was true that the Icon could be more than a little spacey sometimes but this was getting ridiculous. "Well, when we get to the North Pole, it'll confirm to us both that there is no such thing as Santa."

"Oh, don't be like that!" Shawn implored, his face hardening. "You can be such a Grinch when you want to be!"

"Oh come on, Shawn!" Hunter cried. "You cannot be serious!"

"What makes you think that I'm not?" he quizzed, his hands delving into his hand luggage.

"Let me get this straight; you honestly believe that there is a massive, ginger bread and ice factory slap bang in the centre of the North Pole with dwarfs and elf's running around, slipping over in the ice whilst making and decorating presents for all of the little kids in the world to be delivered in about eight hours in one night?"

"Oh yeah and don't remember the man himself or his cute reindeers – Dasher, Dancer Preancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid..."

"Donder, Blitzen and Rudolf, I know, I know," Hunter groaned, wishing this conversation was anything but real.

"Damn, I'm out of pretzels!" Shawn yelled, signally for the airhostess to make her way over to them.

The short but pretty blonde was surprisingly quick on her feet. She was attractive without being stunning; her smile was bright without being dangerously blinding and her light, hazel eyes warm without being scorching.

Hunter gave her an almost astonished look; she looked a little ridiculous. She was wearing reindeer ears with bells attached to them. They made a horrible, tinny sound as she bounded down the aisle, the tinsel in her pig tails barely clinging on as she made her hasty yet sort of unnecessary movements.

"What can I do for you, Shawn Michaels?" she giggled, her cheeks reddening.

"Uh, a diet soda and a packet of pretzels, please Miss."

The whole time she was serving the gentleman her face was glued in the direction of his. She was trying not to seem gobsmacked, like it was a regular occurrence for her to get WWE superstars on this flight to the North Pole. But her excitement was cracking through her ever expanding smile.

"Can I get anything for you, Triple H?" she tittered once again, flipping her hair flirtatiously over her shoulder.

"No, not at the minute, gorgeous, but there is something you _could_ perhaps help us with."

Flattered, her face dipped a little at the thought of having to perhaps think. "Ummm, sure, what's up?"

"Well, my buddy here seems to think that there is such a person called Santa Claus and that there is a massively huge factory slap bang in the middle of the North Pole with midgets and everything..."

She stifled a laugh, her eyes lowering; she couldn't possibly laugh right in a customers face. Especially towards a customer who could floor her in just one punch. "Uh, well, Shawn is absolutely right."

Now it was the Cerebral Assassins time to express amusement. As tears rolled down his cheeks, the young woman and Shawn's faces remained deadly serious confused at the Game's sudden and definitely unexpected outburst.

Embarrassed at the attention the wrestler was attracting, the flight attendant covered her eyes over with her palms that were gently shaking, a little agitated at the scene being made. She attempted to reason with the King of Kings, feeling the tough glare of her boss fall upon her. "There _is_ such a person called Santa Claus who works all year round in a factory in the middle of the North Pole with his workers, called Elves."

As the tears stopped squirting, he managed to contain himself, his eyes alive with hilarity; were these people for real? Did they honestly – in their heart of hearts – believe that there was a fat man dressed from head to toe in red, making toys for children all year round? Surely not!

With the final splashes cleared from underneath his hazel eyes, Triple H's attention was diverted by the Heartbreak Kid's stern, almost ashamed look. With the other blondes arms folded certainly across his chest, he knew it wasn't a good sign; he'd only seen that look on his face a few times before.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?!" Shawn yelped, his voice trying to be angry without being irate and obvious without sticking out like a sore thumb; the two of them had already attracted enough attention from staff and fellow passengers alike.

"I don't know that's why I'm asking..."

"There was no need to laugh in that young woman's face!"

"I wasn't laughing _at_ her, I'm laughing _with_ her."

"How'd you work that one out?"

"Well, I'm not gonna explain this again, but I can't honestly believe that you think there is such thing as Santa. Sure, I can understand that she _may_ do – she sounds like she has the brain of a drunk Maria and yes, I can understand why she would keep up the facade in front of little kids. But why with us? We're two grown men with children of our own – of course we know it's all a bag of crap!"

"Paul," Shawn twisted his body, turning to face his partner in crime. "I think you should just be quiet for the rest of the journey, you know, so that you don't offend anybody else, hmmm?"

They both glanced over their shoulders to spy children crying; it was a fact that they'd heard the conversation between the two friends and the airport lady. And they were _not_ happy.

As he slouched down in his chair, having to admit at least to himself that he was a little embarrassed by his actions, the Game wanted nothing more than to get off the plane and prove this whole thing to be a nasty joke once and for all.

But would he manage to be able to keep the peace until touch down?Check back to find out, soon!

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Thank you for reading! I hope you'd be kind enough to take a few moments to review and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3: Landing in the North Pole!

Welcome to the third chapter of my DX Christmas story! I just wanted to say once again a mega huge thank you to those of you who read and reviewed the last chapter – LCHime, JCEdgeRKO, I love Zigzag, cenagirl5421, randxgirl, Adrian Jade, phaorah and DRUMMER512! I hope you guys love this chapter!

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With his earphones offering him a lullaby from the chorus of roaring children from behind him, Shawn Michaels was frustrated by his best friend's arrogance to the situation. He appreciated his scepticism; when he first read the letter himself, his logical frame of mind kicked in, forcing him to be openly cynical about the whole thing. Yet, the journey to the airport – and the plane ticket itself – said nothing other than the truth to him. Plus, the young lady's certain and enthusiastic response did nothing to deter him from his notions of St. Nick's existence. In fact, it just clarified it.

The Icon knew that over his four decades that God had graced him with on the planet that he was now pretty good at determining what people were like, even within the first few minutes of meeting them. He knew that if that woman had not been genuine, if she hadn't been convinced that there was a Santa Clause, she would have been a little ironic with them. She would have said there was a Santa, whilst making it sound joke like, at least to the adult ear.

Too engrossed in his own thoughts and music, Shawn barely noticed the plane landing.

"Shawn, c'mon, we've landed." Hunter confirmed, jabbing his former tag team partner lightly in the arm.

He acknowledged this but seemingly without too much emotion; he wanted to make it crystal clear to his sometimes ignorant best friend that he may have been responsible for killing the Christmas Spirit for all of the children on the flight to the North Pole.

A mixture of glances met D Generation X as they stood up to get off the flight; some were shocked to see two of the WWE's best known stars travelling in anything other than a private jet. Others greeted them with narrowed, aggravated eyes, disgruntled that all of their hard earned money that had gone into paying for this once in a life time trip for their children had suddenly been ruined by a one man army.

Shawn smiled sympathetically, hating to admit to himself that his illusions of jolly old Father Christmas becoming nothing more than a myth once again. He was almost amazed at himself for convincing his more gullible mind set to believe it in the first place.

Yet, while he was in the North Pole, he was going to enjoy it at least.

Waiting until last to make their way off the plane, the young lady beamed warmly to the Showstoppa'.

He offered her a compassionate look. "Merry Christmas!"

She nodded, fearing for her career if she answered back. As far as her boss was concerned, it was both of the cocky, pig ignorant wrestlers fault, not just one of them.

As they began to clamber down the steep metal steps, they were both shocked to see swarms of photographers crowding around the jet, their camera lenses blinding them with their excessive flashing.

"What the hell is going on?" Hunter mumbled, both men reaching for their sunglasses. They hadn't anticipated their necessity once arriving in the North Pole but were damn glad their bought them in the end.

As the buddy's reached the bottom, they began to hear a multitude of questions buzzing between their ears.

"Shawn, Triple H, what does it feel like to be saving Christmas?"

"DX! DX! Congratulations on being hand picked to save the holidays by Santa! How does it feel?"

"Hey, did you have a good flight? How does it feel knowing you'll be riding a sleigh soon instead of a jet?"

Hunter shoved past them all without so much of a care in the world. "Move over, weeds!"

"He isn't saving Christmas - he's ruining it for everyone!" one Father yelled, holding his small sobbing son close to his chest.

As the duo simply shrugged off the remarks, the jeers from discontented parents and the flash of cameras following them like a bad smell, the degenerates paused, nearly getting run over by a sleigh lead by half a dozen strong husky dogs.

Stepping off from his slightly raised platform, a young man smiled, brushing off a light dusting of snow from his snow suit and removing his skiing glasses to get a better look at the two men. He smiled broader than either than had ever seen, his teeth whiter than the snow, resembling those of a bleached movie star.

"You guys are Shawn Michaels and Triple H, huh?" he asked, his hands running through his hair as his icy blue eyes shone as bright as his smile.

They nodded, confused because of the delirious camera shots and legions of people screaming at them.

"Hi I'm Jonathan, I'll be taking you both to Santa Claus. Come on, we haven't got a lot of time to get there. He's got a busy schedule to stick to if we're hoping to finish all of the toys in time for Christmas."

He acknowledged both men before ushering them onto the sleigh. However, one of the duo was a little concerned.

"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Hunter piped up, watching his best friend eagerly jump on board.

"Yeah, c'mon - it's a once in a lifetime experience for you Yanks!" Jonathan yelled, ironically ignoring his families own rich ancestry of being American.

Hunter, not exactly bowled over with this Jonathan guys unique brand of bland charm, hopped on beside Shawn whose eyes were almost pleading with him not to start a war against this guy.

As the dogs jerked forwards, the wrestlers barely hung onto the sleigh, hanging onto the frame for dear life; neither of them wanted to fall off into the cold snow below.

Although Jonathan seemed as real as some of the Diva's breasts, he was right about one thing; this surely was a once in a lifetime opportunity for them. With the blustery winds sweeping hastily through their locks, their bodies cold but remarkably warm with the fuel of adrenaline, it was a great way to see the world as the dogs dashed forward, bounding their way through the thick, deep snow. It took a matter of minutes to get to the destination of choice; Santa's 'grotto'.

As he halted the beautiful, snow covered creatures, Jonathan stepped away from them, rewarding the Huskies with healthy treats as he led the two men into the entrance.

With a gasp of astonishment, Shawn and Hunter could barely believe their eyes as they waltzed into St. Nick's palace. The grotto was huge, adorned with green, white and red tinsel with candles to match.

A ten foot Christmas tree stood proudly in the middle of the room; anytime a disgruntled, over worked little elf felt that they couldn't possibly go on, it only took one glance at the gigantic ever green and their hearts were instantly elated with the holiday spirit.

The degenerates were in awe of the tree that was almost double their heights. The multicoloured, fibre optic lights of all of the colours of the rainbow mesmerised them, distracting Hunter from his usual cynical thoughts.

After a while, they took a seat opposite the decorated monstrosity, neither man uttering a word to one another. Both men were too fascinated with their surroundings, the enticing whistling coming from the room next door merely an enthralling background noise. The whole place told tales of excitement, as if it was Christmas day all year round.

"It must get boring sometimes, right?" Hunter chimed in.

Shawn, once again, offered a confused look to his best buddy. "What must get boring?"

"Ya know, the elves doing this job all year round.""Yeah but some people might say that about what we do."

"I guess."

As the silence from the former tag team partners reformed, the room seemed to fill with even more light as a young, pretty brunette entered the room. Wearing a red silk and white fur trimmed dress with a matching hat and stockings; she stood at about five foot ten with her lavish, sparkling red heels.

As her curls bounced along her back and over her petit yet perfectly rounded, soft shoulders, the Game couldn't help but gawp; she was beautiful, beyond the standards of any swimsuit model or WWE Diva; she was living perfection, her ample yet natural bust and some thirty inch legs a testament to that.

Shawn, busy reading a novel Becky had been pestering him to read, was oblivious to the model-esque woman as she walked calmly but confidently over to the two famous faces, her rich brown eyes reflecting all of the luminosity in the world.

"Hi, you guys must be Shawn and Hunter, right?"

With her hands on her hips, her voice slipped over one member of the faction like velvet. He saw her cherry red lips move, her pearl like white smile glistening. However, he just didn't acknowledge her; he was too busy staring.

"Yes, we are," Shawn nodded, offering his hand.

"Well, if you two would like to follow me I'll introduce you to my hubby."

She smiled, assured of her own beauty and intelligence.

"Oh by the way, you might want to be careful not to slip on that pool of drool," She added with a wink, aimed in the King of Kings direction.

The Heartbreak Kid took a double take at the man beside him. Lost in his own disillusioned notions, Hunter barely noticed the sharp poke in his side.

"Close your trap, Paul, and remember you _are_ married!"

But what will Santa Claus make of the two degenerates? Check back for more, soon!

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Hi, thank you for reading – please take the time to review and let me know what you think! 


	4. Chapter 4: You need our help?

Hi everyone! Thanks once again to Cheryl, TheHeartBreakKidDX, LCHime, I love ZigZag, DRUMMER512, phaorah, randxgirl, SaraHHH and cenagirl5421 for your great reviews! I don't know whether this is the second to last or third to last chapter so stick with me! I hope you like this chapter!

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For the eyesight of Triple H, it was a beautiful day; it was only a very rare occasion (at least now) that a young brunette was about to introduce him to her husband without the fear of being called a cheater or a home wrecker.

For Shawn Michaels, on the other hand, he could feel the excitement begin to bubble in his tummy; he couldn't remember the last time he went to visit Santa Claus. Perhaps he was nine, maybe even ten, he just couldn't remember. But one thing about today filled him with more glee than many would know; today, he would be meeting the _real_ Santa. Not some guy in a crummy, cheap costume, being paid pittance for his hard day work of offering kids candy canes and asking them the same monotonous question – 'what do you want for Christmas this year?'

No, today was going to mean much, much more to the Heartbreak Kid than that. Today, he'd be meeting the man that made it so exciting and fun for him, all those years ago. This was the same man that was still making Christmas magical and enchanting, even after all this time, for his and his best friend's children and for many more generations around the world.

Hearing a merry laugh within spitting distance, Shawn started squealing with joy. "Oh man oh man, he's in there! Can't you hear him Hunter, can't you hear him?!"

Getting slightly annoyed with his friend's bouncing and arm slapping (not to mention how badly he was cramping his style in front of such a stunning woman), Triple H shooed him away. "Shawn, c'mon chill, ok man?"

"I know, I know, I'm getting a little too excited! But Hunter, this is the real deal! No random guy off the streets dressing up, pretending to be Santa! This is the _real_ Santa, the original, the one of a kind, th-"

"Ok, Shawn," Triple H cut him off, laying his arms on his shoulders. "You may want to calm down and start breathing!"

Controlling his rather rapid wheezing, the Icon managed to contain himself, fanning himself with the letter as the sweet scent of candy canes wafted his way.

Unbeknownst to him, in the time he was practically hyperventilating, Mrs. Claus had been and gone, re-entering the hallway with a glimmer of slight pride about her person.

"Ok, my husband is ready to see you now. Please, try not to be too harsh on him," she urged, her lips pouting a little.

Hunter, seeing the damsel in distress, reached to put his arm around her. "Why, what's happened?"

"You'll find out soon enough! " she deadpanned, not in the slightest bit interested in Hunter's pulling technique.

As the duo made their way inside the vast, grandeur room, they froze, mesmerized by the beauty of the interior. Their original perceptions of the outside being breath taking paled in comparison to this; the whole place was decorated in ice art work, from the mantle piece to the chairs, even the rug had ice glitches on them!

"If you would like to follow me," Mrs. Claus commented, being careful not to fall onto the ice whilst making sure that all of her slender but eye catching legs were in perfect view of Triple H's sight, moving with cat like accuracy.

The Kings of Kings lips pursed. "With pleasure."

Shawn offered his buddy a look that told him not to push his luck. After all, it was one thing to flirt with a woman behind her husbands back, but right in front of him? Totally unforgivable.

Gesticulating for the duo to wait a second, her fire engine red nails catching the light of the crisp, midday sun, Mrs. Claus stepped over to her partner, her fingers slipping over his white, worn string vest.

"Baby, they're here!"

Her voice was smoky and arousing. The man himself awoke from his disturbed slumber.

"Ok, push me over to them."

The Icon felt a little downhearted; he expected Santa to have a deep but playful laugh about him. Instead, all he heard was the voice of a man with considerable doubts and aching limbs, someone who clearly had a lot on their mind but was so flustered that they had no idea how to solve any of them.

The degenerates gasped as Santa was manoeuvred closer towards them, not expecting the circumstances in which they were invited to the North Pole to be this dire or solemn.

"You may take a seat," Mrs Claus spoke, showing no signs of weariness as she tugged her hefty husband closer to the potential saviours of Christmas.

"Thank you, dear," St. Nick acknowledged, inviting his wife in for a kiss.

Waiting until their presence was required, both men reacted rather differently to the situation; Shawn chose to look away, uncomfortable at seeing Santa Claus in obvious discomfort, even whilst passionately snogging his spouse.

Hunter, on the other hand, gazed longingly at the lady; her lips moved in perfect rhythm with the older mans, smooching him affectionately but with as much ease as possible.

Slapping her teasingly on her perfectly rounded bum, Santa winked towards her, motioning her to take a seat beside him. She cupped his hand in hers, tickling his slightly wrinkled skin with her newly prepared manicure as he began to speak to their guests.

"First of all, welcome to the North Pole!" he greeted warmly, the pain lessening a little from his features. "Did you have a good journey?"

Shawn and Hunter quickly glanced to one another; neither man had the heart to tell the aging man about their mishap on the plane.

"Yeah, it was great, really, uh, interesting." Hunter smiled watery.

"I guess you both must be a little confused as to why I invited you out here, huh?"

The WWE superstars nodded.

Santa's eyes fell onto his injury. "Well, I think it's pretty fair to say that this won't be the best Christmas of my life."

"How did it happen?" Shawn enquired, pointing to Father Christmas' leg, enveloped in a tight white and red cast.

Santa glanced up at the Texas native. "I was walking across the toy factory about a week and a half ago. A couple of my Elves were sick so I'd sent them back to bed, you know, in hope that they would be ok for the next day. So, the grotto needed my help since it was getting so close to the holidays and all. I rolled up my sleeves an-"

"Oh, oh, oh, I know!" the Heartbreak Kid leaped from his seat. "You slipped on the ice and broke your leg, yeah?"

"No Shawn, no," he coughed, Mrs. Claus giving him an expression of pure sympathy. "I was carrying a lot of toys across the workshop and couldn't really see what I was doing. I tripped and fell over a wooden train that had been left on the floor and badly bruised my kneecap."

"Ouch," Hunter squirmed, swallowing awkwardly at the thought of that pain.

"I went to the hospital, thinking that I'd just dislocated it but I've apparently torn some of the muscles around my knee cap which is why I can't move it."

"That's terrible- hey, wait a sec," Shawn's face creased, turning to his buddy. "They have hospitals in the North Pole?"

"Of course they do, Shawn!" Hunter groaned. "C'mon, I mean, if we managed to have our own, personal paparazzi, why can't they have at least one tiny, little, itsy bitsy medical facility?"

Mrs. Claus cleared her throat. "If you'll let my husband finish?"

Hunter felt himself flush. "Yeah, of course, sorry."

"I bet you're both wondering where this leaves you, yeah?"

"Well, kinda Santa," the Showstoppa' nodded. "I mean, you send us both a letter, giving us First Class plane tickets to come here to the North Pole. When we arrive, there are a sea of photographers and reporters, yelling about us saving Christmas or something. Then, some arrogant bleach blonde guy drives us here on a sleigh, telling us that we urgently need to see you before you tell us that you've seriously injured and that your leg can't move at all. And this is all like, what, about three days before the biggest holiday of the year, so yeah, I'm confused. Why _are_ we here?"

The three others were staring at Shawn in slight disbelief, Hunter feeling himself sink further into his seat.

"What?"

"Shawn, Hunter, I need you both to do me a huge favour. I need you both to deliver all of the presents to the children all over the world this Christmas Eve."

As Hunter nodded, seemingly understanding the older man, Shawn burst into laughter, tears beginning to sparkle in his eyes.

"No way, you can't be serious! Is he being serious? Coz, I don't think he's being serious! That can't be serious, no wa-"

Hunter slapped his best friend.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"Shut up and let the man talk! Geez!"

"I know it'll be a lot of hard work between the two of you but I wouldn't ask unless I was absolutely desperate. I need you guys."

Santa's voice was barely above a whisper as it become obvious to both men that he was far from joking.

Taking little time to deliberate as they nodded towards one another, Hunter had a question. "Sure, we'll do it, but why us?"

Shawn wiped away the last little tear from beneath his eye. "Yeah, Santa, I mean, out of everyone on the planet, why'd you choose us?"

"Well it's simple really – you guys are the biggest thing on the planet. You even have fans in England! I hear the Queen has a poster of you both in all of her chambers and everything."

A sly smile crept over the lips of both the Claus'.

"Let me guess, we got the job coz Chris Jericho wouldn't do it?"

She smirked. "Well, we didn't want to say anything..."

"However, we have every confidence that the two of you will make a fantastic job of it."

* * *

But how will the degenerates get on? Check back for more, soon! 


	5. Chapter 5: Christmas Eve is family time

Hi ya'll! I bet you weren't expecting another update this soon, huh? Well, thanks once again to LCHime, DRUMMER512, cenagirl5421, phaorah, randxgirl and I love ZigZag for reading and reviewing! I'm really pleased that you guys like this story coz I was a little unsure of whether it was going to be a bit too silly.

This chapter is a little more reflective and family orientation. I hope you enjoy it though!

* * *

Christmas Eve was one of the few blessed days of pure family life for Shawn Michaels. Tired of constantly being on the go the rest of the year, it was one of those moments where he could take a time to relax, breathe and enjoy the life he'd created for himself and those he loved around him.

However, the Christmas Eve of 2007 was going to be a little bit different.

Wrapping his arms around his wife's flat midriff, Shawn kissed her slowly and gently on the neck as they gazed upon their two children, playing underneath the Christmas tree.

"I can't believe we've agreed to do this," he sighed, tightening his grip on her body.

"Why?"

"Well, it's not fair to leave them on Christmas Eve, is it?"

Rebecca twisted her head, to see her husbands face a little better. "You know Shawn, you aren't leaving them. In fact, you're saving them from bitter disappointment in the morning. You know how much Cheyenne has been craving for Santa to arrive, for months now. You're doing children all across the world a brilliant favour. It's such a selfless act! Now why wouldn't you want to do that?"

Shawn nodded. "Yeah, I know, it's just..."

"What? You don't want to leave me here alone all night? Please, I have to put up with it enough when you're on the road. We can go to Church tomorrow morning instead of tonight, it's no big deal. The Lord knows you are doing the world a beautiful justice."

The Heartbreak Kid smirked; Becky sure was one in a billion. After everything she'd had to put up with from the start of their lives together, she'd always managed to remain level headed and cool, even when he couldn't.

"I love you, darling," he purred, tracing her hairline with his lips.

"I love you too."

----

To say that they were an odd couple at times was an understatement. Sure, both members of the Levesque-McMahon (or McMahon-Levesque as someone may prefer it to be called) were tough, stubborn, business like people. Yet, beyond that, they couldn't agree on much at all. They were living proof that opposites certainly do attract.

"It all seems so silly though, I mean, why us, Steph? I know me and Shawn are hot property and all but it doesn't mean that we should run around like kangaroos on speed all night!"

"Paul, please, it's _one _night of your life!" the Billion-Dollar Princess pleaded, beginning to get a little sick of her husband's whining. "It's hardly going to matter is it? I mean, it's not like you and Shawn don't have fun together or anything."

Hunter grinned, sitting beside his wife on the floor as she wrapped the remaining presents for her family, to give the next day. "Not the same kind of fun _we_ can have though, is it?"

Feeling his hot breath on the back of her neck, Stephanie slapped him away. "That's what you say; I have reason to believe otherwise."

"Oh yeah, like what?"

She twisted her body to face him a little better. "Well, there was that time in Australia."

"What time in Australia?" the Cerebral Assassin shrieked, trying to act as shocked as possible. Really, he knew which incident his wife was thinking of.

"You know exactly what 'incident' I'm thinking about! Remember? Randy Orton walked in on you two going a little more than down under with each other!"

"Yeah well, he was just jealous that he couldn't have joined in," he snickered, leaning closer to her body. "Anyway, anything he says is a pack of lies."

Their laughter soon subsided into a thoughtful silence, the King of King's attention soon turning back to his and his best buddy's duties for that evening.

They both glanced over to the tall Grandfather clock that stood in the corner of their lounge. As it chimed eight o'clock at night, he groaned a little, falling back against the wood flooring with his head in his hands. "Why me?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes, laying the scissors down beside the freshly wrapped present. She moved over to his body, lying on top of him casually yet lazily. "Just think of it as another wrestling match."

Thinking of his partner's peculiar likeliness, Hunter's tapering eyes as they met with hers, as bold and bright a blue as ever.

"Think of it in the sense that you and him will be making children all over the world extremely happy this year. Think about it, how you would have felt if when you were as young as Aurora, you'd been waiting happily all year for Father Christmas to arrive but then he never came. You'd be distraught!"

"Yeah, well, up until about three days ago I didn't even think the guy existed."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "What? Not even when you were a kid?"

"Well, yeah, until I was about five. Then, I saw parents carrying all of the gifts downstairs one night. I over heard my Dad say something like 'we'd better put these out ready for Santa getting here'. He and Mum then just laughed."

His wife pouted sarcastically at her husband's almost tearful voice. "Awww, poor baby, you've been so deprived."

Taking another peep at the clock, the Game sighed, spanking his wife's backside jokingly. "I'd better go and pick Shawn up in a few minutes. The Elves are meant to be dropping the sleigh off here at about nine and then we're fast tracking it to San Antonio."

Steph sat up, smirking. "Do you need any help putting your costume on, Santa?"

Hunter's eyes narrowed mockingly as he made his way up the spiral stair case. "You'd be so lucky, Mrs. Claus!"

-----

Peering into his young daughter's lightless bedroom, Shawn beamed, glad that she was tucked up in bed already. He and Rebecca had been worried that she wouldn't be able to sleep; she'd been excited since the start of September about St. Nick's arrival!

Now it was just time to get an excitable Cameron to bed.

"Dad, I can't believe Santa will be here in like three hours time!"

Shawn smiled to his only son. "Yeah but he only comes to those houses whose children are fast asleep by half past nine!"

Lifting his seven year old off his feet, the Icon ushered him into his bedroom, decorated with pictures he'd painted at school, Lego creations and train memorabilia.

"C'mon, the sooner you get in bed, the sooner Santa will get here," Shawn urged, rolling back the covers and helping his son to drape himself in the covers.

Yawning, the eldest Hickenbottom child's eyes became heavy and harder to keep open. "I hope it'll be soon though."

"It will be," he promised, planting a soft kiss on his son's fine, blonde hair. "Night, son."

"Night, dad," he replied, through a jolted yawn.

Creeping out of the bedroom, the Showstoppa' closed the door as quietly as possible before dashing back over to his and Becky's bedroom.

As he entered, she was sat up in bed, reading a couple of passages from the Bible to herself. She removed her reading glasses, watching her husband begin to get a little flustered as he flung clothes from the closet and onto their bed.

"Honey, I already laid out your Santa's outfit on the chair, see? It's that red and white thing over there."

Shawn gasped, annoyed at how unobservant he could be at times.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

He ran over to the bed, kissing her quickly on the lips before getting changed, making sure his Santa's hat was perfectly lop sided on his head.

"How do I look?"

Rebecca chocked back laughter. "Very fetching dear, very fetching."

Before being able to think of a quick witted reply, their ears pricked up; the sound of bells jingling could be heard around them.

Shawn's eyes widened, peering out of the window to see his former tag team partner riding unsteadily on the sleigh, a couple of the reindeers beginning to look a little unhappy.

"Wow, he's on time!" Shawn exclaimed, once again kissing his wife. "I shall see you later ok?"

"Sure, go and have fun!"

-----

Shivering as he landed on the roof of the mansion in Texas, Hunter really did wonder exactly what he and Shawn had let themselves in for. Before, he thought the situation was ludicrous; now he _knew_ the situation was ludicrous!

As the reindeers tugged at the reigns, Hunter felt his blood begin to boil already and it had only been about half an hour into their journey together!

"Stop that Rudolf!" the Game told, growling slightly. The sooner Shawn got there, the easier it would be.

Climbing up the creaky emergency step ladder, the Heartbreak Kid panted. "Woe, man, that was hard work!"

"You're telling me?" Hunter snorted, pulling on the ropes once again.

Shawn could hardly believe his eyes; on the back of the sleigh were sacks upon sacks of presents, all wrapped delicately in an array of different papers and bows.

"C'mon, hop on Shawn, we've got a lot to do tonight!"

Doing as the multiple time champion wished, Shawn sat beside him. With a jerk, the sleigh began to sail unsteadily but hastily through the air.

But how would the degenerates evening go? Would they manage to deliver presents all over to world whilst having a little fun at the same time?

* * *

Check back tomorrow for the sixth and final chapter!

Thank you for reading – please review!


	6. Chapter 6: Merry Dxmas, everyone!

Hey there and welcome to the sixth and final chapter of 'Have yourself a Merry little DXmas!' Thank you to I love ZigZag, cenagirl5421, Adrian Jade, Cheryl and randxgirl for reviewing the last chapter!

I'm sorry that this is like two chapters in one – being as it is Christmas Eve, it kinda needs posting tonight though!

Enjoy!

* * *

The wind was beginning to feel bitter, flakes of snow beginning to flutter like the summer's butterflies. Shawn Michaels pulled his red gloves tighter over his knuckles, shivering as he turned to face his best buddy.

"Man, this thing sure goes fast! How many minutes ago was it since we left Australia?"

"About ten, me thinks," Hunter estimated, trying to glance at his watch a little better.

"How many places have we still got left to go?"

"I think it would be easier to count the number of places we _haven't_ got left to go!" the Game yelled, over the sound of the snorting reindeers, their muscles being pushed to the very limit this festive evening.

"Where are we going now?" the Icon shouted, trying to find the map beneath his feet.

"Someplace in Europe!" he shouted, his thoughts quickly turning to a mumble. "There _has _to be a quicker way of doing this!"

Taking note of the time, the King of Kings realised that they'd soon be behind schedule; they were pushing the boundaries of time keeping very, very finely, after only two hours of delivering presents.

As Hunter continued to whip the reindeers into shape, Shawn started to search the sacks for parcels entitled 'someplace in Europe'.

"Hunter?"

"Yeah, Shawn?"

"Where's 'someplace in Europe'?"

Twisting a little to see his struggling friend, the Cerebral Assassin cracked the rein once again. "I dunno, try Germany or something!"

Shuffling amongst the brown, itchy bags, Shawn heaved the sacks from side to side, clinging on for dear life as the sleigh jolted unsteadily from side to side.

"Damn you reindeer! C'mon, work with me!" Hunter cried, his face nearly as red as his outfit. "I have a new found respect for Santa already!"

Still manoeuvring the bags from side to side, Shawn nearly leapt from his skin as a hand passed him another box.

"ARRR!"

"What the hell?!" Hunter yelped, halting the drivers in mid air. "What's the matter with you?"

Shawn was practically shaking. "T-t-here was a h-hand in t—there!"

"No there was not!" Hunter scoffed, shuffling Shawn away from the sacks. "Let me look – Holy S-"

"Now Paul, I know it's a bit of a surprise but there is no need to curse. I mean, it's not exactly Christmas like, is it? Not to mention that there are younger viewers watching our every move right now."

Suddenly vastly aware of their audience, Shawn and Hunter gawped towards the camera, their faces sloped with shyness. "Hi, everyone." They spoke, waving simultaneously.

"Right, back to business!" the Game called, standing back to their positions, before their self-consciousness. "Holy s-"

With a small cackle, a green gremlin poked his head from underneath the fabric.

"Hornswoggle?" Shawn gasped, helping the youngest McMahon out from the tangle of material. "What are you doing here?"

Muted, the illegitimate child of the WWE Chairman thrusted a note into the hands of the Showstoppa', beaming proudly to the two degenerates.

"Dear Shawn and Hunter, I hope you are keeping to the schedule. However, if there is a problem with your time management, please feel free to use the parachutes provided. They can be found in the emergency box at the back of the sleigh."

Shawn scuffled behind the packs until he found the parachutes, in a red and green plastic box labelled 'S.O.S. Christmas Eve'. Michaels mused at the time just how apt that name was, given him and his buddy's circumstances.

Tying the parachutes quickly but cautiously across the packages, D Generation X took their time to make sure their aim was as accurate as possible above the chimney tops before dropping the rainbow of wrapped parcels to the correct houses, hoping that nothing was too breakable!

"Hey, this is a lot quicker!" Shawn cheered, hauling another to the ground.

"Yeah and at least we avoid that same old argument about who's going down the chimney at each of them damn houses!"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, I don't want to ruin my outfit!"

Triple H cleared his throat. "You know, if you condoned it, you would make an excellent camp guy."

Ignoring the juvenile jibe, Shawn continued with his duties. As he did so, he began to realise just how essential Santa Claus was to everyone all over the world each Christmas. It hit home that, without the jolly old chap in red, Christmas would mean very little to a lot of folks. As tragic as that was, in light of how commercialised it was all becoming, he still appreciated the man's job, even more so now.

The Game broke the silence. "Hey, Shawn, just a thought – how the heck are we still suspended in mid air?"

Feeling the whole sleigh begin to crash and burn, Shawn and Hornswoggle huddled together, screaming for dear life.

"Do something Hunterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!"

Keeping his cool facade for a while longer, Triple H took charge, whipping the reindeer's butts into shape. "Keep in the air you dozy gits!"

"Hey, it's not my fault that you two take so long to do anything!" a gruff voice argued, shaking his head as the bells around his neck jingled in the abrupt evenings air.

"Who said that?" Hunter questioned, confused.

"Me, Rudolf, the one you've been calling 'red snot nose' all night."

"Wait, you mean you guys can talk?" the Icon piped up, him and Hornswoggle finally finding the courage to stand up after their near fall from grace.

"Well, only me – someone needs to keep Santa in order most Christmas Eves!"

Hunter felt inspired enough to get a progress report. "So, how are we doing so far?"

"Well, apart from the fact that our butts are gonna be sore for months to come, our legs feeling like they are about to fall off and despite you being a little behind schedule, not to mention making us stay still but afloat in midair for well over twenty minutes, not too bad."

Shawn shrugged, becoming a little lacklustre. "Well, that's good to hear – I guess."

"Hey but what the heck are you doing here for, Hornswoggle?"

With the King of Kings forgetting that the littlest McMahon lacks the ability to speak, the leprechaun pulled another letter from his pocket, forcing it into the capable hands of the Showstoppa'.

"Dear Shawn and Hunter, just in case you wonder why Hornswoggle is joining you, don't worry! He is with you because he works part time as one of my Elves so I thought it would be good for someone who you both know to come with you to help out from time to time."

"Really, you work for Santa?" Hunter asked with baby like inquisitiveness.

Hornswoggle nodded, beaming with what he felt as great importance.

Managing to soar above the snow clouds long enough to deliver all of the presents across Germany, France and Belgium, Shawn inspected the map once again. "I think the next stop should be England."

Upon hearing that the UK was to be the next destination, the illegitimate child of Vince McMahon pulled another candy scented note from his pocket.

"Dear Shawn and Hunter, once arriving in Britain you may need to get out and make a number of 'house calls'. I only do this for houses where children have vowed to stay up until late in order to see me."

"Great," Hunter groaned. "I thought we might get back to the US in record time but not now."

"Oh, don't worry, Hunter!" Shawn urged, putting a comforting arm around his former tag team partner's shoulder. "There are only about ten kids and just think, by the time we get there, they could have already gotten to sleep anyway."

"I hope you're right man – this is more tiring work than I expected!"

"So you do believe in Santa now, I take it?" Shawn pestered, seeing a smile creep on his best buddy's face.

"Just a little."

Finally managing to drop the final present in Scotland, the friends decided to revisit the method of simply sailing the parcels down the chimney's, instead of leaving the warm comfort of the sleigh to stand on an icy roof top, arguing which one of them would squeeze down a hostile block of bricks.

"Ok, so there is only one more house visit to make," the Heartbreak Kid announced, reading off the list "A kid called Ebony in Boston."

Hunter paused. "Urgh, Shawn, Boston's in America, remember? Massachusetts?!"

"No, it says Boston, Lincolnshire on this list," he confirmed, pointing to the target on the trusty map.

"Oh, so it does!" Hunter chuckled at his own mistake.

"Geez, and people call _me _the spacey one!"

Managing to make it to the house in record timing, the two superstars parked on top of a detached house's roof. The building itself was quite old; it looked as if it used to be a farm but had been converted into a plot of land for a family to grow up on together. The building, Hunter expected, was once a barn but had been converted into a home.

Heaving the sack onto the roof, both men spied the red bricked chimney.

"Your call or mine?" Triple H inquired, both men gazing fretfully downwards.

"Hey, don't look at me; I've been squeezed in tighter spots than Houdini in the past half an hour!"

Hunter nodded. "Well, there is not enough room for either of us to get down there."

"There has to be _someone_ who could fit down there," Shawn puzzled, both men facing each other nervously.

Their eyes locked before turning to the youngest McMahon who was already teetering on the edge. His eyes had tears shining from the moon's bright glare.

"Oh, don't look like that!" Hunter implored, looking away sharply; he hated being given 'the puppy dog look' as Shawn and Stephanie had sometimes offered him.

"Awww, look how sad he looks!" Shawn sniffed, feeling a little sad himself. "We _can't_ make him go down."

"Yeah, I mean, this dumb kid wanted Santa anyway and since we are his helpers for the night, I guess it ought to be us that go down there!"

Shawn agreed, his face meandering. "There _must_ be another way down."

Suddenly, Hornswoggle began to wave his hand in the air, trying to grab the two taller men's attention.

"Oh, I think he has another letter," Shawn told, accepting the perfectly creased piece of paper. "Dear Shawn and Hunter, I should have perhaps told you earlier but if you have any problems trying to squeeze down any small chimney holes, please use this."

Hornswoggle held the wand tightly in his palms.

"No thanks, I don't want to play the flute right now," Hunter wisecracked, getting hit on the knee cap with the wooden stick.

"Ouch! What's this?"

Before the Icon could grab it from the leprechaun to inspect it himself, all three men were magically transported into the house. Stood in complete darkness, they knew that they should start the search for a light switch.

Unexpectedly, a bright light shone in all three pairs of eyes. The Santa's helpers shrieked, covering their mouths to block the noise; the last thing they needed was disgruntled, half asleep parents harassing them.

Swiftly, a young voice spoke from behind the light. "A ha, I've got you 'D Generation X'!"

"Evening, Ebony!" Shawn greeted cheerily. "Ho, ho, ho-"

"Ok, cut the act, where are the presents?"

"Hey, that's not a good way to welcome Santa's assistants!" Hunter said, pulling his hat firmer over his blonde locks.

The small, brunette girl rolled her eyes as she folded her arms over her chest in a tiresome, grown up adaptation of impatience. "Yeah, yeah, well, it was hardly like I didn't know you were coming, huh?"

Shawn and Hunter exchanged concerned glances to the freckled girl with curly hair. By all accounts, she was seven years old, already cynical and one of the downsides to Santa's whistle stop world tour every 24th of December.

"How did you know it was going to be us?" the Showstoppa' queried, a little bit deflated by her sarcasm.

"Oh please, like it was gonna be a big shock! You guys have been on every news channel in the country since last week with stories of how you are going to save Christmas for everyone!"

Triple H slapped his mates arm. "Oh yeah, how could we forget about all of the paparazzi?"

"Yeah, those dudes were relentless! But never mind all of that – shouldn't you be in bed already? After all, it is nearly half past three in the morning!" Shawn spoke, letting his fatherly instinct take over him.

"Well, I wanted to wait up and see you guys!" she replied, turning sweeter than the chocolate cheesecake she was clutching on a plate before her.

"What are you doing eating sweets this time in a morning?" Hunter cried. "Didn't you know that that stuff rots your teeth?"

"Oh, what kind of cheesecake is it?" Shawn interrupted, feeling his tummy rubble and his mouth dribble as he knelt before the young girl.

"Triple chocolate with a chocolate biscuit base and chocolate curls and choc-"

"Far too unhealthy for a wrestler, right Shawn?" Hunter tittered, plonking the bulging sack next to the fully decorated tree.

The Heartbreak Kid, however, was too preoccupied with the sugary goodness before him.

"_Right Shawn_?" Hunter repeated, a little louder.

"Oh yes, yes, shame on you, young lady!" he sternly spoke, wagging his finger.

"Oh well, my bad!" she shrugged, licking the spoon now that the dish was empty. "Anyway, what has Santa got me this year?"

"Nothing if you don't behave!" Hunter firmly responded, not wanting to be spoken to like a child _by_ a child.

"You know, I have been good all year, it's just that I get too excited Christmas Eve. Then, I can't sleep. Then, I come and sit downstairs and wait for Santa. Then, by the time he gets here, I'm tired and cranky and usually give him a hard time. I don't mean to – it's just the way it turns out."

Although one member of D Generation X felt like they were being taken for a bumpy ride, the other almost felt sorry for her. She was a product of the time; impatient, borderline desperate because of the way the shops had trained her to be for months on end before the big day itself.

"And you two have been pretty good all year round too, huh?"

Hunter folded his arms, inadvertently mimicking the small child. "Oh really, how?"

"Well, you haven't really done anything that bad all year, have you? I mean, the last _big_ prank you pulled was _last_ Christmas day with Vince getting his Christmas dinner ruined."

Shawn smirked. "Oh yeah, I remember that as if it was yesterday!"

"Yeah, that was pretty mean."

"Mean but funny all the same!"

"Since then, you two have been like angels compared to that," Ebony stated, taking a seat in her warmly furnished living room, in the freshest of creams and terracotta's. "It's like you two have lost your ability to take the Mickey out of people."

"Have not!" Hunter bickered.

"Have too!"

"We so have not, little lady!" Shawn disagreed, pulling his hair back over his shoulders.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Prove to me, right now, that you two, D Generation X, the funniest, baddest but bestest tag team in the whole wide world ever can pull the trick of a life time on a completely unsuspecting old man!"

Hunter jeered. "Oh yeah, how do you propose we do that?"

A little over forty minutes later and DX, Hornswoggle and Ebony were perched on the roof of the McMahon's massive mansion in Stanford, Connecticut.

"Are you sure your parents won't mind us just taking you out of your home country to do this?" Shawn questioned tensely once again.

"No, of course not!" the youngster answered. "Well, as long as I'm back home by six!"

Hunter appeared a little anxious. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Of course it is! What are you guys, chicken? Come on, just get in your places and get moving!"

Sleeping soundly beside his wife, Vince McMahon was dreaming of his twenty-four hours away from the world of wrestling. Although it was his passion for the rest of the year, it was a beautiful gift that he'd be able to take the time out to enjoy the empire he'd built for many decades, relaxing in the comfort of his own million dollar manor. Even _if _it was only for one day a year.

Suddenly, he awoke. His eyes ridden with sleep, it took him a moment to realise that it was his bedside telephone bleeping.

"Hello?" he spoke, picking up the receiver most gingerly.

"Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas!"

"Who the hell is this?"

"Why it's me, Santa Claus, of course!"

"Santa – wait a second, you're not real!"

"Oh yes I am!"

"Oh no you're not!"

"Oh yes I am!"

"Oh no– wait a minute – prove it!"

"Ok, I will," he chuckled, laughing merrily. "Look out of your bedroom window!"

"Why?"

"Do as I say and you'll be able to see me!"

Doing what was asked of him, his mind still clouded by sleep, the chairman of the board rose from his bed. Lifting the heavy curtains and netting away from his windowsill, he peered down to the snow covered ground below. He did not like what he saw.

"Hornswoggle! Put your ass away!"

As his embarrassment of a child continued to waggle his buttocks in his dad's direction, immediately, Santa's sleigh swooped down to the height of the window.

"Hi Vince!" Hunter waved, mocking his affection.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" he snarled, fearing that his day of peace would soon transcend into a day of reckoning for his only known daughter's husband.

"Oh, nothing," Shawn replied "Just thought we'd come to give you a weather warning for the day ahead."

"A weather warning? What, at this time of night?"

"Yeah, you see, _Vince _it looks as if it's going to get a little wet for you."

"Or should we say, a _lot_ wet?"

Before the boss had a second to reply, he was shocked, covered from head to toe in red and green paint, the perfect combination of DX slime green and Santa Claus red.

Dripping, Vince began to simmer.

"Oh, and we must not forget to give you something to put in your stocking," Shawn remembered.

"Yeah, a little something from the both of us!" Hunter agreed, dropping a gnarled lump of black coal into his soaked hands.

"Merry Christmas, Vince!" they cackled, Hunter taking charge of the reins once again.

"I HATE YOU!" he yelled, throwing a hissy fit as he kicked his remaining gifts across the room in a tantrum, shocked that he'd been made a fool of so easily and so early on in the day.

With Ebony returned safely to her bed before six am, and the whole world's presents being successfully delivered with an hour to spare, the dastardly D Generation X duo returned back to their love ones with there being one thing left to say.

"Merry DXmas to all!"

* * *

Hi! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who read 'Have yourself a Merry little DXmas!' especially to those of you who were kind enough to review. You guys have been great! I know some of you would like to see the story about when happened in Australia – who knows what next year may bring:)

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas with good luck for 2008! Thanks once again!

Eleanor.


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